Down with the Sickness
by Red Aurora
Summary: With Charles dangerously ill and doctors unable to help due to his abilities running wild, his students are forced to turn to an old ally turned enemy to try to save his life.  Occurs after First Class.
1. Chapter 1

_I've been working on this for days now so I guess it's about time to throw it out for the Internet world to see. The first couple of chapters will be short, just because I can't find better places to cut them off. Hope you like it!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

They found me on a Thursday afternoon. I have no idea how they knew where I was or how they got past the other mutants I surround myself with for the matter. But that's not important now. I was sitting in my study when a man flanked by a younger boy and girl burst in. I stood, throwing my hand out, ready to defend myself with any bit of metal I could find in the room.

"Wait!" It came from the man as the trio skidded to a halt, arms put out in a placating manner. The man who I could now see was covered in blue fur.

Appraising the group standing before me, all three were clearly in a state of worry. The two younger ones must have been the method of entry because I knew the abilities of the third man and they didn't include extreme stealth. I lowered my hand. If they were here to harm me, surprise was their best option. They knew that and had not taken advantage. Therefore they had another purpose. Now I just had to find out what it was.

"Hank. You shouldn't be here."

"I know. He probably wouldn't want me to be. But we don't have much of a choice."

"He?'' I asked the question but I already knew the answer. The real question was why they would go against his wishes.

"You know I'm talking about Charles. He probably wouldn't want to involve you, but it's just gotten worse and I'm not a medical doctor. I don't know what to do."

_Medical doctor_ was what stole my attention, closely followed by the sheer desperation in the man's tone. He was speaking so fast it was difficult to understand him at all.

"Hank, slow down. Take a deep breath." I'm not usually the placating type, but Hank was near panic and other two children with him didn't look much better. Somehow my words had the desired effect. Hank took a breath and released it. He looked a bit calmer.

"Now tell me what's wrong."

"It's Charles. He's sick."

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><p><em>The next chapter should be up tomorrow. Please review (even though it's short so far)!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow! Thanks everyone for the story alerts and favorites and reviews! I wasn't expecting such a big response after such a short first chapter! As a reward, here's chapter two. It's longer than I thought it would be so yay I guess._

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><p>"<em>Now tell me what's wrong."<em>

"_It's Charles. He's sick."_

That Hank was concerned enough to hunt down someone who wasn't guaranteed to help or even care meant that "He's sick" was probably the understatement of the decade. I played it off, not wanting to overreact and show my emotions to a boy who was no longer my ally.

"That's why you're here? Illness is hardly something to get worked up about. Surely he'll get over it in a few days time."

"That's what we thought last week when all this started. He said it was just a cold. But he's been steadily deteriorating. He started calling for people in his sleep, especially Raven and you. We asked if he wanted us to find you, but he said it wouldn't matter because you wouldn't come."

Hank paused. The other two children remained silent but decidedly uncomfortable. I wasn't going to like what was coming.

"He went to sleep two nights ago and has yet to regain consciousness."

"What? Why didn't you take him to a hospital?"

The volume of my response caused the group in front of me to jump. That all the metal in the room shifted may also have contributed to their startled state. So much for keeping my emotions reigned in.

Hank recovered quickly, glaring at me. "We thought of that. In the beginning, Charles didn't want a hospital. He'd spent a good deal of time in one after Cuba and wasn't eager to go back. We respected his wishes, but compromised by bringing a doctor to the mansion. The doctor said he had the flu, but started getting concerned about pneumonia when he wasn't improving. The morning Charles wouldn't wake up, the doctor insisted we take him to a hospital, despite his misgivings about being there. We agreed, but before we could get him out of bed…well, the simplest way to put it is that Charles isn't exactly controlling his powers."

"What do you me he isn't controlling his powers?" Based on my experience and what Mystique had told me, Charles had _never_ not been in control of his powers.

"It means that whatever Charles is feeling is telepathically transferred to everybody in the mansion. It's usually guilt and sadness. He's clearly dreaming about something. We can never tell exactly what it is, but…sometimes I get the sense that there's sand under my feet." Hank made sure to look me straight in the eye for the final sentence. Only those present 9 months ago in Cuba would truly understand the meaning behind what Hank had just said.

"Why do you need me? I'm not a doctor. I won't be able to help him." It sounded callous, even to me. But I hadn't truly faced Charles since that day and I wasn't sure either of us were ready, despite the months that had passed. And really, what could they expect me to do to help him?

"You have a helmet that keeps his powers from affecting you."

"I do." Oh.

"It's gotten to the point where none of us can be in the same room with him without falling to our knees in tears. He's in pain Erik." It didn't pass my attention that he made sure to use the name Charles would. "None of us can help him. We can't get to him to put an ice pack on his head, much less get him the water, nutrients and medicine he needs. If one of us can't get in there without succumbing to his emotional state, he's going to die. I know you've had your differences, but surely you can't want to see him dead. Please. At least tell us what the helmet is made of so we can get into his room and take care of him."

"How do I know this isn't a trick so Charles can find a way to get past the helmet?" It was silly to suggest, but I can't change my distrusting nature.

Hank's pleading expression turned cold more quickly than Mystique could change forms. "Because we aren't you."

I was silent, impressed by how much Hank had grown. He was no longer the unassuming scientist we'd accidentally outed as a mutant.

He took my silence as an opportunity to continue. "If you don't believe us and you won't give us the helmet, then come and see for yourself. This isn't a trick. We don't know what to do and we need help. Even if it has to come from you."

My decision was made, but I paused for effect, trying to keep my guise of neutrality, despite my earlier outburst.

"Very well. I'll need to tell my people I'm going, then gather a few of my things. After that we can leave."

The trio looked visibly relieved, though they never let their guard down. I called Emma in. Everyone tensed, but I spoke quickly in as sinister and authoritative a tone as I could muster.

"I have a task I need to handle personally. I'll be gone for a few days. You can contact me through Hank." Emma and Hank exchanged uneasy glances, but Emma nodded nonetheless and was gone before I could tell her to leave.

I grabbed my helmet and a few other things I thought I might need then joined them at the door. As we left, Hank saw me reaching for one more thing. His massive paw swatted my hand away.

"For goodness sake, leave that ridiculous cape here."

I kept my back to him so the boy couldn't see the smile that slipped up on my face.

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><p><em>I've never actually written a story in first person before. I'm hopeful this one is working out to be a decent balance of character dialogue and what's going on in Erik's head. Next chapter should be up sometime tomorrow! <em>

_Oh and reviews, as always, are appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Again, thanks so much for the reviews and alerts and all that! Awesomeness! One quick note before the next chapter, special for anyone who missed it: This is 9 months after the movie. I tried to slip it in stealthily in the last chapter, but I may have been too stealthy for my own good :) Oh well. So, 9 months after the movie. Ready go.  
><em>

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><p>When we entered the mansion, it was deserted.<p>

"I thought this was supposed to be a school."

"We sent the children to a more secure location with Sean once Charles' powers got too far out of control."

"Sean is in charge of a group of children?" The disbelief must have been evident on my face.

"He's actually pretty good with them." His smile was reassuring, but short-lived. "We all had to grow up pretty quickly after Charles was paralyzed." The words were said as casually as if he was simply commenting on the weather. They stung me nonetheless.

The other two children who had accompanied Hank into my study had gone elsewhere as soon as we left, no doubt joining the rest of their comrades in their new location. As we entered the mansion, Hank began to slow. His breathing became more labored and he clearly was having difficulty walking in general. I was glad I'd had the foresight to put my helmet on. We made it to the kitchen to find Alex sitting despondently, tears streaking his cheeks.

Hank looked at him. "I thought you were at least going to stay on the same hall as Charles." His tone was as hollow as Alex looked.

"I couldn't. It was too much. I- it felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside."

Alex turned his attention to me. His facial expression didn't change but his eyes grew colder. The boy didn't strike me as the forgiving type and I had been partially responsible for injuring the man who had helped Alex learn to control his powers, effectively giving him his life back. Even without Charles' telepathy, I knew how he must feel towards me.

"He gonna help us?"

"He is." Hank turned to me as well. "You remember where his room is, right? If there were any possibility, I would be there with you. It would certainly reassure everybody. Unfortunately I'm already having a hard time not ripping everything in the room apart so it seems it would be best for you to go alone."

Beast was a fitting name for him after all. "I remember where it is. I'll do what I can."

Alex spoke this time. "There are ice packs in the freezer. You should remember where food and everything is. The medicine the doctor left and basic first aid are already in his room. If he's able to control his abilities, call a doctor straightaway. Oh, and if you do anything to harm him, I'm positive Beast will have no problem ripping you limb from limb."

I looked to Hank, who gave a shrug as Alex continued.

"We still have ways of knowing what you're doing while you're here, so don't even think about doing some type of spy work or something. You're here to help Charles. That's all."

"Very well." I hesitated. "You know I don't actually want to harm you. We're all mutants. We all deserve the same rights as everyone else. We shouldn't have to hide-"

Alex held up his hand to stop me. "Save it. We've heard your little speech before. Help the professor. Then get the hell out of our house."

With that, the two boys made their way back the way I'd come with Hank. I sighed and moved in the direction of Charles' room.

I entered to find it much the same as the morning we'd left for Cuba. The single addition was Charles' wheelchair sitting by the bed. On the table lay a chessboard. As I looked closer I realized it was the same board we'd left unfinished the last time we'd seen one another properly. The pieces remained where they'd been left, waiting for a player to make his next move.

A rasping noise pulled my attention from the board, finally moving my focus to the sight I realized I'd been avoiding. Charles lay on the bed covered in blankets. He looked pale and very uncomfortable. Every few seconds his brow would furrow and he would shift positions or twitch. Occasionally he let out a rasp or deep cough. Sweat covered his face, making his hair cling to his forehead. I moved hesitantly over to my new charge.

After an hour, I was able to calm him to an extent with medicine and an ice pack to the head. His temperature was bordering on 105. I didn't need to be a doctor to know that wasn't good. How long had it been that high…and when does it become dangerous?

Looking at his face, it was clear something was going on in Charles' head. I couldn't comprehend the level of emotion he must have been putting out to physically keep his students from caring for him. Out of curiosity, I lifted my helmet, just barely, to let the smallest bit of that emotion in. I was slammed with more pain than I thought one person could hold. I scrambled to reset the helmet on my head.

"My gosh, how did those kids deal with this for so long," I wondered aloud. I looked down at Charles. He was almost panting.

"What is going on in that head of yours?" Charles furrowed his brow and whimpered in response.

The hours came and went. I'd managed to keep Charles stable under my care. He had an icepack lying on his forehead and had gotten water down at least once every now and then as well as the medicine as regularly as the instructions suggested. The fever remained constant however and, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I was concerned. I was doing all I knew to do, but it seemed that my friend was going to burn up right in front of me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. After everything he'd been through, the amazing powers we'd seen, all the possible ways to die while fighting humans and other mutants, here was Charles Xavier, slowly dying of pneumonia of all things. It was also disturbing to find no discernible reason for his complete lack of consciousness. Even if it was in a delirium, he should've been awake. Nonetheless, he remained unconscious, as he apparently had since 2 days before my arrival.

Another deep cough pulled me from my thoughts. I remembered hearing somewhere that, even unconscious, people could sometimes hear if someone spoke to them. It was worth a try. It's not like there was anybody else around to laugh at me for it. I moved my face as close to Charles' ear as my pride would allow.

"Charles? It's me. It's…Erik." I didn't want to use the name Magneto. Not here. Not with him.

To my surprise, Charles' brow furrowed once more, but not like did in reaction to whatever dreams he was having. I knew the man well enough to recognize confusion on his face when I saw it. I continued quickly, not wanting to lose the connection.

"Charles, listen to me. There's nobody else here. You're very very sick. Please, try to control your powers. Let me help you."

There was nothing to read from my friend's face this time. A leap of faith then. I steeled myself, waited a few moments in hopes that Charles had heard me and was gaining control of his abilities, then lifted the helmet from my head. I felt myself wince involuntarily as emotion assaulted me, but it was far less severe than before. A smile formed on my face.

"Good! That's excellent Charles!" I sounded like a school teacher praising a child and immediately felt foolish. "Stay like this. I'm going to call a doctor." Before I could get more than two steps towards the telephone, the emotions flared up again, sending me to his knees. What the hell had caused that? Surely Charles could control himself for more than a few seconds. Unless…

"Okay, okay, no doctors!" The emotions immediately reigned themselves back to the manageable levels of moments before. Interesting.

"So you don't want a doctor and you can't tell me what's wrong. I don't know what you want me to do Charles. I won't sit here and watch you die. What do you want from me?"

I sat back on the chair I had moved next to the bed. As I did, the room began to blur. I vaguely wondered if I had caught the flu from Charles before the whole room melted into blackness.

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><p><em>There you have it. I've been trying to update once a day, but the next chapter needs more editing and I'm going to be traveling. So basically what I'm saying is it may be a couple of days. We'll see. I'll do my best. Hopefully this will hold you over until then.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm back! I know, I wasn't gone for long, but whatever. Once more, your response has been amazing! Thanks so much! A few of you even called what was going to happen next, so well done there! _

_Quick note: I use a couple of quotes from the movie here. I got them from some website I found via Google. Happy reading!_

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><p><em>I sat back on the chair I had moved next to the bed. As I did, the room began to blur. I vaguely wondered if I had caught the flu from Charles before the whole room melted into blackness.<em>

As the blackness receded, I found myself no longer surrounded by the walls of Charles' bedroom. My new environment was chaotic and I realized I was much hotter than I had been moments before. A number of scenes flashed around me. Scenes that all seemed to focus on Charles. Was this what was happening in Charles' head? I had no idea bringing somebody into his memories was part of Charles' telepathic ability. It would explain the heat though, since at last measurement Charles' fever was 105.1. I didn't have time to dwell further as the scenes around me began to focus into individual events.

It was like an extreme version of one's life flashing before one's eyes, but in random order. Charles going to Oxford, young Charles with his mother, Charles in a wheelchair, Charles helping me find serenity in my rage to turn the dish, a young blue girl who must have been Raven, the beach in Cuba, Charles and I meeting for the first time, training, the halls of a high school. The scenes slowed down further, allowing me to see more detail.

The first was Charles' first week at Oxford, as indicated by the boxes littering the apartment and the books strewn about the space. Raven walked in to find Charles sitting on the couch dejectedly, head in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. He spoke without looking up.

"I really thought there would be more people like us here." His tone was melancholy, not what I was used to hearing from the ever hopeful man I'd come to know.

"It's okay Charles. You'll find them eventually." Raven sat on the couch next to Charles, putting her arms around his shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

"What if I can't? What if we're the only ones?"

"Then we'll be alone together." She rested her chin on Charles' bowed head. He leaned into her and allowed her to hug him.

The scene melted to the beach in Cuba.

"You should go with him. It's what you want."

"You promised me you would never read my mind."

"I know. I promised you a great many things, I'm afraid."

The girl stepped away from Charles and was gone in a puff of smoke seconds later. Through the pain on Charles' face, I caught a glimpse of profound loneliness. Alone together had become alone alone. I didn't have time to dwell however, as the scene shifted again.

…

Next was 8-year-old Charles with his mother. She paid little attention to her son as she adjusted her earrings and hair in a hallway mirror. She turned to the maid.

"I'll be out late for the party. Make sure he's in bed before I get back." It wasn't said in a terribly rude way. Just...disinterested.

With that, she walked down the hall, barely sparing a passing glance at her little boy.

"Have a good night dear. Don't stay up too late." It was said in the same tone as she had addressed the maid: disinterested.

Charles turned and looked after her. His head lowered minutely and his eyes focused sharply on her back. She froze and turned around, a wide smile on her face. Then she walked back to her son and gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"I love you sweetheart! Have sweet dreams!"

"I love you too Mother."

The boy gave a smile, but his eyes were sad.

…

I was in Charles room as he wheeled in and looked around from his apparently new wheelchair.

That scene ended quickly, replaced by, to my surprise, the yard in front of the mansion with the dish. I watched as Charles drew out my memories, helped me find serenity in my rage. We shared tears and joy as I was finally able to focus my power. I couldn't help but smile at the happiness this memory brought me.

As quickly as it came, the joy was taken away, once more replaced by the beach and Charles' frustration at being unable to communicate with me as I kept my new helmet firmly in place.

…

Next Charles asked a pretty girl out in the halls of a high school.

"What so we can go drink tea at that ridiculous mansion of yours? No thanks." The sneer on her face made her far less attractive than she first appeared. She turned to leave, hair swishing behind her. Charles stared after her, eyes angry. The girl froze almost exactly like Charles' mother had in the hallway when he was 8. She turned with a smile.

"Oh course I'd love to go out with you Charles! I'm so sorry I didn't say so before! You just caught me off guard. What time should I be ready?" Charles stood for a moment before sighing.

"Forget it." The girl blinked a couple of times, then came back to herself. She looked at Charles with disdain on her face once more.

"Can I help you?" The snobbish tone was back. Charles turned away and stalked down the hall without another word. A look of disgust covered his face, not at the girl's rejection but at himself for using his abilities on her. As always, loneliness lurked not far behind his eyes.

When I turned to follow him, the scene had shifted to the front of the mansion. Charles was sitting in his wheelchair. Moira McTaggert was pushing him. They stopped and said a few words I couldn't hear. Moira bent down and kissed him. I watched as he relished it for barely two seconds before putting his fingers to his temple, wiping her memory of him and his school.

…

The scenes came more quickly now. I was back in his room again watching him roll in for the first time.

Another flash, we were both there, playing chess and smiling.

Just as quickly we were back on the beach. I flinched and looked away as the deflected bullet hit Charles. The other me held him until he rejected me then left with those who had been working for Shaw.

...

More scenes flashed by me. I had always assumed Charles' cushy childhood had led to his attitude that peace was an option. Clearly I was wrong. While he wasn't tortured at the hands of Nazis, he by no means had an easy time growing up. Yet he'd never said any of that to us, instead focusing on helping us with our own pain, replacing it little by little with triumph as we mastered our abilities. Of all the mutants I had seen, Charles' abilities were by far the most perfect match for his personality. Telepathy fit him like a glove.

I took stock of the scenes that were playing once more. Two consistently appeared. They would flash in between the others unbidden, much quicker than the others, as if on fast forward, like Charles had no control over them.

The first was the beach in Cuba. One would think it would get easier to see something if presented with it enough times. I'd never experienced that with the Cuban beach. I had played it over in my head enough times to know. Every time it repeated it grew more painful. Whenever the scenes in Charles' head shifted away from it, I felt an immense sense of relief. As painful as it was, the beach scene replaying made sense. It had completely changed Charles' life as well as my own.

The second scene I didn't know what to make of. It was much shorter. It was the scene in which Charles came into his room in his wheelchair. Nothing of apparent significance occurred. He would roll into his room and stop at the table where we would sometimes play chess. The chessboard next to him would catch his eye. He'd glance at it before glancing at the floor. Then the scene would end.

I had seen the Cuban beach a number of times in his memory now, but usually different parts of it, a different perspective or the like. This scene, however, was always the same. Roll in, go to the table, see the chessboard, look down. The scene began to repeat.

"Why, Charles? Why is this moment so important?" I said to myself.

"Because this is the moment when everything changed." The unexpected reply caused me to jump. My head whipped towards the familiar voice coming from my left.

"Charles?"

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><p><em>Alright, that's it for now. Hopefully the flashbacks were all okay. As for the high school flashback, I have no idea why anyone would turn down a date with a cute guy with a British accent. But some people are just like that, so oh well. <em>

_We're getting towards the end. The next chapter is longer than this one. Don't know how long editing it will take, but I won't keep you hanging too long ;) Hopefully your patience will be rewarded with awesomeness._


	5. Chapter 5

_Whew, sorry about the delay! I had every intention of having this posted sooner, but I'm involved in a wedding this weekend so that's kinda taking over at this point and I've been super picky about editing. Oh well, better late than never. Here's the next chapter!_

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><p><em>"Why, Charles? Why is this moment so important?" I said to myself.<em>

_"Because this is the moment when everything changed." The unexpected reply caused me to jump. My head whipped towards the familiar voice coming from my left._

_"Charles?"_

I turned to see Charles, standing, watching himself in the wheelchair as his counterpart saw the chessboard and looked down. The scene finished playing and began again.

I took in the Charles standing before me. He had an indifferent expression on his face, but appeared otherwise as I was used to seeing him, smartly dressed, hair carefully in place and…standing up.

"You don't see it, do you?" Standing Charles turned his attention to me as Wheelchair Charles rolled by us unaware. He spoke again before I could answer. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I'm here to help you."

Standing Charles looked back at the scene before him. "You're part of my subconscious."

"No, I'm really here. This is me. We're in your room. You've been unconscious for days. Your students came and got me. You brought me here." I realized I was nearing the same desperate tone Hank had used with me when he'd come to get me.

"Hmm." Charles response was as indifferent as the look on his face. He watched himself look from the chessboard to the floor. I let the scene start again, taking a breath to steady myself.

"What is this moment Charles? Why do you keep watching it? Why does it torture you so much?"

"You really can't see it? I guess you might not if you weren't paying attention. It's in my eyes." Wheelchair Charles looked down at the ground. The scene began again.

"Please just tell me."

Standing Charles took a deep breath then released it. "This is the moment I gave up. This is the moment I saw everything I had lost: my legs, my sister, my best friend. Lost in a matter of minutes of one another. In the hospital I could pretend I would get better. Once I returned home, not walking became my reality. Once I saw the chessboard…I knew I had lost my friends, my sister. Of course Hank and Sean and Alex try their best. But they look to me as a leader, not as an equal. I was _supposed_ to be a leader, but how can I with no one to stand at my side and support me."

Standing Charles' gaze never left his wheelchair-bound counterpart as he spoke. He took another deep breath before continuing. The rasp it would've caused his physical body wasn't present.

"This moment is the moment I realized that I couldn't be the person everybody needed me to be. I couldn't recover from losing so much while building a school, taking care of children, and fighting you. I can barely take care of myself. Even my abilities are pointless if there are ways to counteract them. All you have to do to avoid me is put on a helmet. There's nothing I can do to stop you. So…this is the moment when I gave up."

Now that I knew, I desperately wished I didn't. I had no idea he had been in so much pain. His apparent apathy as he explained it made it all the worse. I turned my head, watching with new eyes as Wheelchair Charles looked from the chessboard to the floor, knowing what that moment meant for him.

"This is why you're so sick. You're not fighting."

"Everyone is trying to fight for me. They just can't let me go."

"So you drove them away by letting your powers run loose." This realization was quickly followed by a horrible thought. "Charles…do you want to die?"

He paused before replying, looking thoughtful. "No. Some part of me brought you here in a desperate attempt for help. Maybe it's just survival instinct. I don't want to die." He paused again. "But I don't want it to be like this."

I sat dumbstruck. "This is my fault." The words came out as a whisper despite the conviction I held for them.

Standing Charles briefly lost his indifference and looked at me puzzled. "Why? I don't blame you for what happened. Not anymore."

That hurt, but I swallowed my pain, knowing I deserved every bit of it. He must have noticed my discomfort as he continued undaunted.

"I did at first. I was alone and angrier than I'd like to admit. You were an easy target. But I've moved on. I know now that you aren't to blame. You were defending yourself. I had unfortunate timing in my return to consciousness and decision to stand up. It was an accident. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time as the saying goes."

"You wouldn't have been in the position to be shot if I hadn't put you there."

"You wouldn't have been in a position to put me in a position to be shot if I hadn't tackled you. We can play this game all day. In the end, what happened happened. We can do nothing to change it. Unless you've found a mutant who can bend time."

I gave Charles as much of a smile as I could. "No. No time benders. Though that's an idea…"

Charles smiled back. The smile wasn't the optimistic one I was accustomed to seeing on his face. This smile was full of sadness. Sorrow flooded from it like water over the banks of a flooding river.

"Charles I am truly sorry for what has happened to you."

Charles opened his mouth, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"Let me finish. I know you don't blame me now, but I'm sorry nonetheless. It pains me to know how difficult the past few months have been on you. You didn't deserve this. But everyone goes through things they don't deserve. You've seen the horrors I've been through. Did I deserve them? No. I got through them. In the end, they shaped who I am today, for better or for worse. You must get through this too, my friend. Because if you lose hope and let yourself wither away and die, it will add even more to the burden I already bear. I'll never forgive myself. I cannot live in a world without you as a friend, even if we're on opposite sides of a war."

Charles looked at me in silence before a hint of amusement appeared on his face. "Are you trying to guilt me into living?"

"Is it working?"

The amusement on his face slipped away. "Maybe. I do appreciate the pain you've been through and the difficulties life presents us. And…it's certainly nice to hear your sentiments. You're so closed off most of the time. It was difficult to tell if you held our friendship in as high a regard as I did well before you acquired that bloody helmet. It's a relief. Still…"

My first effort had failed, but I wasn't ready to give up. A different approach then.

"Charles, there's good you can still do here. Those kids need a place to go. They need a choice. I can't be their only option. I don't want a bunch of bright-eyed kids running around my ranks talking about finding peace. Please, just give yourself more time. Let Hank and Alex and Sean help you. You have too much life ahead of you."

Even as I spoke, I could see my words weren't having the effect I'd hoped. Indifference remained the only emotion plastered on his face. Whatever part of Charles' consciousness I was dealing with wasn't the part that dealt extensively with his emotion. Either that or he'd given up to the point where indifference was the only consistent emotion he could muster. Anxiety took over me once more.

"You can't just abandon those kids you worked so hard to recruit!" I wanted to say 'the kids _we_ recruited' and to include myself in those he would be abandoning. But this was about Charles, not me. Apparently he sensed my feelings, answering without skipping a beat.

"Like you abandoned me bleeding on a beach?"

I winced as the scene flashed from the bedroom to the beach, watching as I let Moira take Charles, then flashed away with Azazel and Raven. My chest tightened and my stomach rolled as Charles' control over his emotions slipped and I got the slightest glimpse of how he'd felt in that moment. The shock of it caused me to double over. Standing Charles closed his eyes. With the slightest tilt of his head the pain in my chest and stomach was gone. I looked at him, hands on my knees, shocked at the pain I'd felt in that moment. I didn't like the look on his face. It was back to somber resignation. He was giving up and I couldn't stop him. I stood again to my full height.

"You said you didn't blame me," I said with an edge of sharpness to my voice, frustrated that that I wasn't succeeding.

"I don't. It doesn't make the abandonment hurt any less though. And part of me will always remember how it felt on the beach that day."

I wanted to slap him, shake him, try to get him to show some type of emotion. The only thing that stopped me was not knowing whether violence against a part of a person's consciousness manifesting in his head would achieve that goal.

"If you're planning on letting yourself die anyway, why did you really bring me here?" Despite my best attempts, I could sense the desperation in my tone and the touch of bitterness at the complete lack of control I seemed to have.

"Because I want somebody to understand. And you of all people should understand why I'm giving up."

I felt tears prick my eyes, which surprised me. Only Charles and my mother could elicit such emotion. I knew this was the last chance I was going to get to convince Charles of his importance. I took a deep breath and, looking as serious as I could, grabbed his shoulders and turned him, forcing him to look at me.

"Charles, you need to listen to me. Pain is a part of life. As terrible as it is, it helps us grow, helps us become the people we need to be. You and I have gone through a great deal of pain. We're special. We balance each other out. The world needs that balance, as much as I hate to admit it. We need mutants who are on the side of peace. And you're the best one peace could possibly ask for. Those children need you. The world needs you. And even if we're not on the same side, I need to know you're around to keep me from turning into Shaw."

The last words left my mouth before I realized what I was saying. They shocked even me. I hadn't meant to turn the topic back to me, much less have a personal revelation. Charles stared at me, showing modest surprise at the statement as well. I didn't even know it consciously, but I suppose being in a telepath's head is a good way to uncover your unconscious fears. Charles' full attention was on me and, for the first time, it seemed that he was genuinely considering what I was saying. Ignoring my own revelation, I continued.

"You made me a better man. If you can do that for me, you can do that for others. Being in a wheelchair will not change that. Your strength was never physical, though you do pack a surprising punch for an Oxford boy. Your strength is in your words, your mind, your ability to help others above yourself. I know you can be the person the world needs you to be, even if you don't."

I released my hold on him, letting him take a step back. Charles hesitated before looking back at the beach, deliberating. It was empty now and would've seemed a Caribbean paradise if we didn't know better. Emotions were flashing behind his eyes faster than I could comprehend. Then it all stopped. He turned back to me.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. The damage to my body may already be too far along. But I will try to fight off the illness if you agree to remain by my side until I awaken and keep the children away. Do we have a deal?" He looked at me, neutral expression firmly back in place.

Relief washed over me. "We do."

"Excellent." Charles gave me half a smile. "Now get out of my head."

I shot up from where I was slumped over the bed. My neck and back were sore and a headache pinched at my temples, probably a side effect of being pulled into somebody else's head. How long had I been unconscious?

A noise from the bed drew my attention back to Charles. The relief I had felt turned to concern as I noticed Charles was shivering and covered in sweat, the ice pack having turned to water. The rasping coming from his chest had, if anything, gotten worse. The emotional turmoil was back to near unmanageable levels. Clearly the strain of holding two consciousnesses in one mind had taken its toll. I put my hand on his head. He was still burning up.

_The damage may already be too far along._

Fear gripped me. How long would it take for him to fight? What if it was too late? What if it was all for nothing? A doctor was still out of the question with the waves of emotion rolling off Charles. But now wasn't the time to panic. I took a deep breath and strengthened my resolve, putting doubt out of my mind as I'd learned to do so well since Cuba. If he was going to fight, then I was going to do everything that I could from out here to help him.

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><p><em>That's all for now kids! One more chapter to go!<em> _As I mentioned, I'm helping with a wedding this weekend, so it probably won't be posted until Sunday-ish._

_Also, I'm fairly sure I got the "this is the moment I gave up" replaying over and over from an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I haven't seen said episode in something like 10 years, so I can't say for sure. Either way I think it's sufficiently different for the purposes of this story._

_And I know it was a little sappy, especially for Erik, but oh well. A girl can dream.  
><em>


	6. Chapter 6

_It's finally here…the last chapter! Bittersweet, right? We all knew it had to end eventually ;)_

_Really quick, thanks to all the people who gave well wishes for my friend's wedding I was involved with. It was gorgeous and went off without any problems. _

_Now without further adieu…_

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><p>The next days were torturous. Charles' temperature was down to 103.9. High but not as dangerous as before. I kept my helmet off. I wanted to know immediately if Charles regained control of his emotions so that I could call a doctor.<p>

To pass the time, I talked. I could understand the loneliness Charles felt as the sole leader of a newly formed group. There was nobody to talk to, nobody to support you if you were having doubts or fears or if you were just unhappy. You could never show any sign of weakness, no matter who weak you might feel. I told him everything I could think of. How devastated I was when I found out he was paralyzed and that, no, it wouldn't get better. How I'd been thrilled to see how well Sean and Alex and Hank were doing, even if they were keeping me from my goal at the time. How much it hurt to see the kids we'd been training together using that training against me.

Finally, almost 48 hours after my foray into Charles' mind, I woke from a nap to discover a quiet that I hadn't felt since I'd come to the mansion. The emotions emanating from Charles had diminished to a dull buzz. I grinned, genuinely grinned, and telephoned a doctor. Maybe, for the first time in 9 months, things would work out the way I wanted them to.

* * *

><p>Nearly six days after I had first entered Charles' room, I awoke to find his fever down to a reasonable 100.6. He had stilled the day before, which the doctor assured me was a good sign, indicating that whatever hallucinations had been going on due to the fever were gone and he could rest now and recover. I had informed Hank of Charles' recovery after the doctor left. He told me he would be bringing the children back soon, but for the time being I could stay.<p>

I was bustling around the room putting some of the towels I'd been using away when I heard the bed shift. I looked over to find Charles' eyes blinking back at me.

"I thought that was a dream," he murmured, almost to himself.

"No. I've been here the past six days. And yes, you dragged me into your head. It was quite the experience." I made the statement with a nonchalance I certainly didn't feel.

If he was flustered by the news he didn't show it. Instead he shrugged. "You were always telling me to stay out of your head. It's only fair that you have a chance to poke around mine." I smiled despite myself. It was almost as if the past 9 months hadn't happened. Almost.

I shook myself from my thoughts and moved towards the bed. "How do you feel? Your temperature is down so you should be feeling better." As I talked, I fixed the sheets and felt his forehead, habits formed over the past few days. When I looked at him again, he was giving me an amused smile.

"What? I can take care of people. It shouldn't be that surprising…" I grumbled, immediately backing away from the bed and crossing my arms over my chest.

Charles let out a chuckle. "There's no need to move from a maternal role to that of a petulant child. It's just…it's nice is all."

I uncrossed my arms but remained where I was. Charles looked at me again. "I'm sorry about what you might have seen in my head. Those were things that…well those were things I meant to keep to myself. I'm afraid that, while I did have some control, my skills were lacking due to illness."

"If you didn't want me to see it then why did you pull me into your head Charles? You said it was so that at least one person would understand why you were dying. Was that really it?"

The bedridden man was silent for a moment, contemplative. "To a point…yes. Part of me really did want to die rather than face reality again." My heart sank. Charles eyes shot to my face, clearly feeling my emotions. "But not all of me," he added quickly. "I think, on some level, despite what I said before, I brought you there because I knew you were the only person who would be able to convince me to come back."

"How did you even know I would come to the mansion?"

"My dear friend, who do you think could have planted the idea in Hank _and _given instructions for how to get past all your guards?"

I gawked. "How did you know how to get past my- never mind. I'll deal with that later." Charles was wearing a big grin, clearly very pleased with himself. "So it was your idea to bring me here. Hank said when he came to get me that you thought I wouldn't come."

He shrugged. "I didn't. Clearly, my subconscious disagreed."

"Good. Whatever you may think, I won't abandon you to death."

"Yes, I remember what you said up there." He tapped his forehead for emphasis.

"You were so…lonely…and sad. You know, when I was…up there." I mimicked his forehead tapping. "I had no idea it had been so hard for you."

"Most of the time, before this at least, it wasn't that bad. I had my moments, but overall I've been satisfied with my life, despite the pain it has given me at times. Doctors told me it's normal for someone who has gone through an ordeal like me to have a period of depression. It does tend to impact one's view of one's own mortality, not to mention the adjustments to being bound to a wheelchair. They tried to send me to therapists, but I kept feeling their pity and it only made things worse. Being a telepath is quite detrimental to dealing with one's own mental shortcomings as it turns out."

"Are you better now?" I asked tentatively.

A somber smile crossed the telepath's face. "For the time being. I'm afraid that's the nature of depression though. It ebbs and flows. Tomorrow may tell a different story. But today, in this hour, I am okay."

I didn't like it, but I knew it to be true. Charles would have his ups and downs. If he could get through them, the ups would begin to outnumber the downs until eventually he was back to relative normalcy. Still, I didn't want to leave him knowing how fragile he was.

"Charles, promise me, if you…relapse…you'll find a way to contact me before it gets this far. I meant everything that I said before. I don't want to see you die. We can meet somewhere, play a game of chess, get away from everything. We can be the friends we once were, even if only for an hour."

"I'd like that Erik. You have my word I won't let things spiral out of control as I have these past few months."

I gave a sigh of relief. My eyes drifted to the table and the chessboard sitting on it. The chessboard I'd seen so often while I was in Charles' head. I looked back to the man in the bed. He looked at me cautiously, like he was fearing what I might say.

"Would you care to play a game of chess? I'm afraid I don't recall where we were in this game. We may need to clear it and start a new one."

A small smile formed on Charles' face and he visibly relaxed. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

I smiled as I cleared the chessboard and moved it to the bed. After getting Charles some water and another dose of medicine, we began to play.

* * *

><p>Charles had just taken my king when a knock sounded at the door. Hank entered. His relief at seeing Charles sitting up in bed, fully awake and aware, was palpable.<p>

"Professor, it's good to see you feeling better."

"Yes, thank you Hank. And thank you for finding a way to help me."

Charles looked pointedly at me as he said it. Hank nodded and turned his attention to me as well. "I wanted to let you know, the students will be here in an hour. It would probably be best for you to be gone by then." Knowing he was right, I stood, gathering the things I had brought with me. As I began to leave the room, I turned back to Charles.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"I have you to thank for that." His face grew serious. "Thank you for coming. I mean it."

We shared one last smile before Hank escorted me out of the room and to the front door. The sun greeted me. I glanced down at what my hand held. With a sigh fixed the helmet firmly back on my head. Our truce was over for the time being and it was time to face reality once more. At least until tomorrow.

Fin

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><p><em>And there you have it! I hope the last chapter met everyone's expectations. <em>

__Thanks to everybody who has been keeping up with this, especially everybody who put it on their story alert and favorite list. Special thanks to everybody who reviewed and/or sent me messages. Thank you all SOOOOO much! You guys really inspired me. You're all AMAZING! I'm glad people enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it._ Thanks again for reading!_


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